


Mistlefoe

by PoemAboutCitylights



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Hogwarts at Christmas, M/M, Mistletoe, mistlefoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 11:20:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8977549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoemAboutCitylights/pseuds/PoemAboutCitylights
Summary: There's a hexed mistletoe appearing all over Hogwarts. But instead of forcing the unlucky to kiss, it wants them to punch each other in the face.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by a prompt I saw on tumblr and I had to write a story about it.

When it had first appeared, Draco had loved it. In fact, he had been wondering if Santa himself had decided to give him his gift earlier this year to save him from the cheery mess Hogwarts became before christmas.  
It had been the first day of December with the first years all stunned by the christmas decorations in the Great Hall, shiny snowflakes falling from the hexed ceiling and little elves "singing" one cheesy christmas song after the other. The muggelborns were eagerly opening some weird boxes which smelled of cheap chocolate while the Ravenclaws had apparently decided to go for a post-breakfast poetry christmas slam.  
Draco hated it, all of it.  
It hadn't always been like that, though.  
He remembered times when christmas had been his favourite holiday of all. His mother would take him to Diagon Alley and together, they would pick out sweets wrapped in sparkling, golden paper. The Manor would be covered in snow and candles would light their way through the garden. He would spend hours and hours drawing dragons which could actually set fire to the paper they were made of and his father would smile at him as if he was actually proud of his son.  
But Draco had grown to hate the feast full of false affection, loud music and glitter that would stick to your hair for days because Pansy bloody Parkinson's Slytherin common room decoration spell had backfired.  
So he had done his best to block out the noisy mess that was the Great Hall and forced his breakfast - which tasted of nothing but cinnamon - down his throat.  
He couldn't even grouse about christmas with Blaise, who used to hate these days even more than Draco, because the fellow Slytherin had found out that christmas time was an exceptionally good time to get laid and since then, Draco had been forced to despise the holiday on his own.  
He had been about to snap at the younger boys from his house to just _shut the fuck up_ for a second when it had happened.  
The Great Hall was silent in a heart beat when a loud bang, followed by a dull sizzle echoed through the room and everyone's heads turned towards the Gryffindor table.  
Right over Longbottom and the Weasel hovered something that would have resembled a gigantic mistletoe if it hadn't been pulsing in a deep shade of red and sent black sparks in every direction.  
At first, there wasn't anything to be heard until suddenly, everyone seemed to start talking at the same time, the weasel's desperate "Hermione?" the loudest of all.  
And Draco had to admit that he was curious himself what was up with that thing so he nudged Blaise's shoulder and pointed at the strange mistletoe.  
"What's that?"  
"I have no idea, Blaise, but if it is another one of the Weasley twin's hexed mistletoes that forces people to kiss, it should be good fun. Look, Longbottom is blushing like virgin  that has never been kissed."  
"Maybe he hasn't", Blaise shrugged and Draco stared at him.  
"What?!"  
"I said maybe he hasn't had his first kiss, yet."  
"I understood you perfectly well", Draco rolled his eyes, "but c'mon, even Longbottom must have had a girlfriend. Or at least some Hufflepuff girl."  
"You know that those are rumors, Draco. Not all Hufflepuffs are that desperate. Even though some of them might be quite horny all the time", the other Slytherin shot him a smirk which indicated things Draco rather didn't think about too hard.  
"But, you know, some people might actually wait for the right person to come around."  
"Yeah, you're one to talk, Zabini."  
Blaise shrugged again: "I never said I counted myself amongst that folk. Anyway, you - too - haven't been kissing someone for quite some time so I'm guessing you're waiting for someone to come around as well."  
"What the fuck are you even talking about, Zabini? How would you know?"  
"It's not that hard to guess that your crushing on someone when you refuse to shag me, you know."  
This time, Draco rolled his eyes so hard he thought he might be able to see a piece of his own brain.  
"Just because I have no intention of fucking you that doesn't mean that I am into someone else, Blaise. I'm not even gay, why would I even want to shag you?"  
"That's what McLaggen said before I had him sucking my cock like a lollipop."  
"Eww, TOO MUCH INFORMATION."  
"Oh, really? You know who else sucked m-..."  
Blaise was interrupted when Granger suddenly raised her voice: "I'm afraid this isn't a mistletoe, boys. If I understand this correctly", she raised a book which was almost as big as a house elf, "it has similar aspects, though. You will be trapped under it until you.. ehm..."  
"Kiss each other? We already know that, 'Mione", the weasel croaked and looked at Longbottom with bewilderment.  
"No, Ronald, like I said, this isn't a normal mistletoe. It will only let you go once you... punch each other in the face."

And that had been the very moment when Draco had decided that maybe, just maybe, this christmas would be much more enjoyable than the last ones.  
One had been able to see an imprint of the weasel's hand on Longbottom's cheek for hours and whenever the angry mistletoe appeared somewhere around Hogwarts, Draco could feel satisfaction rushing through his veins.  
Seamus punching his boyfriend while Dean was kissing him was somehow amusing, the Patil twins tugging at each other's hair was even funnier and Potter carefully hitting Romilda Vane was some quality stuff, even though it evoked some feelings in his stomach which he rather didn't think about too much.  
But his personal highlight so far was that glorious December morning when none other than Hermione _brightest witch her age_ Granger punched Lavender Brown so hard that she had to spend two days in the hospital wing due to a broken nose.  
Draco had to admit that this was the best christmas time he had ever experienced and he was mentally thanking whoever was responsible for the mistle _foe_ at Hogwarts.  
That was until he was making his way to the kitchens after an afternoon of studying Potions and all but ran into the savior himself.  
"Oi!", Potter exclaimed and made an attempt to help Draco, who had fallen onto the ground, until he saw who it was. He stared at the Slytherin for a few seconds, confusion showing on his face, until the all too familiar distanced facade Potter had greeted him with since their return to Hogwarts was on again.  
"What are you doing here, Malfoy?", his voice was almost as icy as the magical snow which was covering the kitchen.  
Draco thought about not answering Potter at all for a second but then answered: "I missed dinner because I was studying. Unlike you, I have the intention to actually get a qualification and earn my own money. Instead of getting myself spoiled by the ministry."  
He could see Potter's facade cracking and Draco smirked: "You know, I want people to hire me because of my abilities not because of my name."  
"I think you forgot that no one wants to hire a Death Eater, Malfoy. And I will be an auror after I finish school. And I donated the money I got from the ministry. So what makes you think that I'm getting spoiled?"  
"I", Draco closed his mouth, "I just assu-..."  
"Yes, you just assumed. Just like anyone else. Let me tell you something, Malfoy", there were flames lighting up in the boy who lived and lived again's eyes, "I never wanted this. I didn't wake up one day, saying _OH, WELL, LET VOLDEMORT WANT ME DEAD AND ALL MY FRIENDS TOO, I MIGHT BE ABLE TO DEFEAT HIM AND FINALLY HAVE THE WHOLE WIZARDING WORLD TRYING TO SLEEP WITH ME._ "  
Draco wasn't stupid, so he knew that, of course. He also knew that bloody Potter was one of the least selfish people he knew and that just like himself, he was a victim of fate. But why should he tell him that when it was so much fun to have Potter finally screaming at him again, to see that fire in his eyes which hadn't been there for months, when the Chosen One finally seemed to be _alive_ again?  
"Oh, come on Potter, who would want to sleep with you?", he snickered and took in the sight in front of him.  
_Angry_ Potter, _angrily_ trying to tame his _angry_ dark locks, staring at Draco with _anger_.  
He wanted more of that.  
More of that fury.  
To see that Potter was still alive and that Draco could still steer some emotions in him. To see that Potter still _cared_.  
"What are _you_ even doing here, Potter?"  
"That's none of your business!", the Gryffindor snapped immediately and a light blush spread across his angry cheekbones.  
It was adorable.  
"It's not like I care, anyway but why are you missing dinner with all of your admirers? I bet they're giving you lots of presents at this time of the year."  
"Yes, and they're constantly asking me to tell them about my experiences of the war and how I defeated Voldemort. Which, it may come as a surprise to you, it not amongst my favourite topics."  
Draco was silenced by that. And he had to admit that he had never really thought about that. With Pansy and Blaise, he almost didn't talk about the events of the war at all. They had agreed that it was a part of their past, something they'd all wanted to forget as soon as possible and constantly being reminded of this time was probably harder to take than he had thought.  
"Hah, sure Potter. Because you totally hate being the centre of attention. Come on, everyone knows that you do things because you want people to look at you. You want the people to admire you. You are addicted to the fame, to being the Ministry's golden boy", Draco spit out and couldn't keep a smirk off his face when he saw how Potter's hands formed fists.  
Potter looked like a grumpy kitten and Draco _loved it_.  
This was what they were supposed to be. Arch enemies, constantly teasing the other, waiting to make a move.  
He had hated how Harry had ignored him since the beginning of their eighth school year. He had missed their daily fights. More than he liked to admit.  
"And what about the Weaslette? I heard she dumped you for a French Quidditch player? Must have hurt, right Potter? Not even being able to keep a Weasley girl? That narrows down the chances to ever be a part of their family. I don't get why someone would want to be with them anyway but even Granger managed to get herself a pureblood. So, how does it feel, being all alone? I heard you're staying at Hogwarts for christmas... Are you no longer welcome at the Burrow? Maybe because you are responsible for one of their son's death?"  
He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Teasing Potter about his failing relationship, yes. About his stupid hair and his ridiculous clothing, yes.  
But talking about the war... No.  
There was a whole range of emotions showing in Potter's eyes; anger, hurt, disgust, heat and many more.  
But Draco knew what Malfoy's did in situations like this one, so he kept his face calm and sneered: "Whatever, Potter. And stop looking that angry, it's quite distracting."  
Yeah, well, maybe he didn't really know what a Malfoy should do.  
It was right then when an all to familiar mistlefoe appeared right over their heads, sending sparks through the room.  
The last thing he saw was Potter's green eyes lighting up, his dark curls swirling around his face and he thought 'he's not an angry kitten, he's an angry lion' before Potter's fist collided with his jaw and he stumbled against the christmas tree behind him. The Gryffindor was now standing above him, panting heavily while his lips formed words Draco couldn't understand.  
A sharp pain was pulsing in his jaw and he could taste blood; apparently, he had bitten himself when Potter had punched him.  
The pain didn't seem to easy but when he was back on his feet and reached out to hit Potter, adrenaline as rushing through his body and he felt high.  
Potter's skin felt warm against his hand and his finger's rested against the boy wonder's cheekbones for a moment until the other wizard threw him back on the ground using all his weight by landing on top of him.  
Draco could only reach Potter's hair and he started to pull it which caused the Chosen One to groan and since their chests were pressed together, he could feel the vibration against his ribs.  
Potter, on the other hand, had sunken his fingers into the sensitive skin of his neck and he could feel drops of blood running down his spine.  
By now, they were both breathing heavily, their body's intertwined, rolling around under the christmas tree.  
"Fuck off, Potter, you're ruining my robes."  
"Oh yes?", Potter tore at his tie and nearly choked Draco by doing so, "it's a pleasure."  
"Honestly, get off me, you git."  
But Potter made no attempt at leaving him alone so Draco rolled them around again, pinning down the Gryffindor with his own weight, one leg at each side of Potter's hips.  
"What do you want to do now? You can't keep me here forever", Potter breathed, his cheeks rosy and his pupils blown.  
Yeah, what was Draco going to do now?  
He was suddenly very aware of how close they actually were, their crotches pressed together and his hands tying Potter's to the ground above his head.  
With horror, Draco realized that he was PANICKING. But Malfoy's didn't do such things as panic.  
He had to do something. Now.  
And he did.  
He must have blacked out for a second because once Draco was back again, his lips were pressed against Potter's, which were incredibly soft and oh so warm and Draco lost it right then and there.  
He opened his mouth slightly and Potter mirrored his motion, making room to slip his tongue into the Golden Boy's mouth.  
God, Harry tasted of sweet afternoon tea and smelled of christmas and the way his lips moved against Draco's caused him to believe that he might pass out again.  
But then Potter sneaked an arm around his waist, bringing their bodies even closer together and the boy moaned against Draco's mouth.  
And that was the moment Draco Malfoy found his personal sense in life in getting Potter to make these sweet sounds again. Preferably breathed against his lips.  
He felt Potter falling apart under him, his bones going soft and hot air escaping his mouth.  
Draco's hands wandered into Harry's hair and, Merlin, how he had wished to feel that soft curls against his palms, to comfort the git by gently massaging his scalp.  
And Potter was all gentle, his fingers drawing small circles on Draco's back while he was pressing soft kissed against his jaw which he had punched minutes before.  
" _Draco_ ", Potter whispered, sending shivers through the Slytherin's body and Draco could feel the boy smiling against his lips.  
Potter amazed him.  
He was a warrior with the face of a 17 year old, with a smile that could light up the whole castle. He was all soft and fluffy, with his ridiculous hair and glasses but Draco would, not even once, make the fault to believe in that.  
Potter was strong, not just physically but more importantly mentally.  
"Draco", he breathed again, his voice barely more than a whisper.  
"Yes, Potter?", he was out of breath himself.  
"What does that mean?"  
"What do you want it to mean, Potter?"  
The Boy Wonder thought for a while: "Something."

Draco could live with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my story, it would mean a lot if you left kudos/a comment :)


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